Burned
by TheNextFolchart
Summary: According to every logical reason he can come up with, he should be in love with her. (But he isn't, because she's not Lily.)


**Burned**

_For Alys_

* * *

><p>He isn't so sure he wants to marry her.<p>

Which doesn't make any sense - because she's beautiful, and she's pure, and she's rich, and she's got that long slender figure that's so "in" nowadays, and she's calmer than her older sister and smarter than the younger, and according to every logical reason he can come up with, he should be in love with her.

(But he isn't, because she's not Lily.)

"Where are we going for dinner?" she asks when he comes to her door - seven o'clock sharp, just like they'd planned. She's bundled up in a long coat with matching earmuffs and a woolen scarf, and every inch of her is white. (He wonders for a moment whether he'll lose her in the snow if he takes his eyes off of her.)

"Wherever your heart desires," he tells her, and she puts a gloved hand against his cheek and pulls him in for a kiss. There's a ring buried somewhere within that glove; silver band, one diamond, cluster of emeralds. They both know exactly how much it cost.

"Hogsmeade?"

(_Of course Hogsmeade, _he almost says. _Where else is close enough to have us back at Hogwarts by curfew?)_

But he doesn't say that, because he's supposed to be in love with her, so instead he offers her his arm and they step out together.

"Seventh year is a nightmare," she says, and he pretends to listen just like he's pretending to love her. "Studying for NEWTS all the time, it's exhausting."

"Looking forward to it," he says sarcastically, and part of him is quite glad that next year she'll be gone and he'll have the castle to himself for his final chapter of Hogwarts.

"Exhausting," she says with a shake of her platinum-blonde head.

"Three Broomsticks?" he asks, hunching over against the wind. His breath hangs in front of him like a cloud. He shoves his hands into the pockets of his leather jacket and wonders whether she's capable of feeling cold.

"The Three Broomsticks?" She wrinkles her nose and purses those lips - pale, so white they're nearly blue - and lets out a sigh that produces no cloud of breath.

(Does this woman not have blood in her veins? Is she made of marble? Is she carved out of ice?)

"Or somewhere else, if you want."

"Broomsticks is fine," she says. There is disappointment in her voice, but he doesn't care, and he leads her inside the pub anyway. The heat hits him like a curtain of steam when he walks in; he pulls off his jacket and drapes it over the coat stand by the front door, and then holds out his hands for her white coat.

She doesn't take it off. "I'll keep it on, if it's all the same to you."

(It's _not_ all the same to him, but he can't say why, so he lets her keep it.)

"Booth in the back?" he asks, jerking his head toward the table in question.

"Fine." She leads the way and sits down. "Crowded," she remarks, picking up a menu.

He doesn't answer.

(He's seen _her_, sitting one booth over, laughing with her friends over butterbeers, and she's _glowing,_ she's every shade of pink and red and orange, and if he weren't so decidedly in love with the snowflake of a girl sitting across from him, he thinks maybe he'd fancy Lily Evans.)

"No waiters available," she says, and he takes her hint and wanders to the bar to order.

"I'll get us a refill," he hears Lily Evans call from behind him, and then she's bounding up to the counter and standing so close to him that he can feel the heat coming off her skin.

"Regulus!" she says when she sees him. "We've been looking everywhere for you."

She's as bright as the sun. He can't even look at her. He's afraid he'll go blind. "Have you?" he says with his eyes fixed on the countertop.

"Yes." From the corner of his eye, he sees a wisp of red hair that has escaped the knot on the top of her head. She pushes it behind her ear. "Sirius says you borrowed his leather jacket. He wants it for next weekend, so he can take his motorcycle out."

"It's _my _motorcycle," he says.

"Right." Already the wisp has come untucked. It brushes against her cheek, gets caught up in her eyelashes. "You can share it, can't you? Just like Sirius shared his jacket?"

(He wants to say no, he _can't _share it, but it's Lily, and he can't deny her anything.)

"Sure."

Lily grins and squeezes his arm; the touch galvanizes him into meeting her eye for the first time, and he instantly hates himself for thinking she's beautiful. (_She's not yours, she's not yours, you both belong to other people._) "So who are you here with?" she asks. "You should come sit with me, if you came alone."

"Oh, no, I - " He gestured helplessly at the booth, where the ice queen herself is sitting with a sour expression on her face.

"Oh. Her."

(He knows he's imagining the disappointment on Lily's face, but he lets his mind run wild.)

"What can I get for you?" the bartender asks, and Regulus orders two butterbeers and a plate of chips, even though he knows his fiancée isn't the chip-eating type.

"The chips here are good, aren't they?" Lily still hasn't fixed that one lock of hair.

"Very good."

"And for you?" the bartender asks Lily.

"Three butterbeers," she says. "And - oh, what the hell, some chips, too."

"Are you two together?" asks the bartender. "Or separate?"

(_Not together._)

"Separate," Lily says.

(Her hand is still on his arm.)

"Coming right out." The bartender disappears into the kitchen.

"I should get back to my friends," Lily says. "But it's been good seeing you, Reg."

"You, as well."

"I don't see enough of you anymore." She finally takes her hand off him. There's a handprint of warmth left behind, like a sunburn, and he wonders for an instant how James Potter is capable of kissing this girl without burning up.

"I'm not eleven years old anymore," he says with a grin that everyone says looks exactly like his big brother's. "I don't have to follow Sirius around in order to have friends."

"No," Lily says, returning the smile. "I suppose you can make your own friends now." Her smile falters a bit. "How is Severus these days, speaking of your friends?"

He purses his lips. "I'm not - I don't see Severus very often."

"So you're not - you don't have a - you know, a Mark?"

He shakes his head. "I'm not a Death Eater."

She lets out a sigh of relief. "_Good_."

(He doesn't tell her that he's been invited to join, that his parents want him to join, that he's been to the meetings in the dungeons and that the only thing preventing him from taking the Mark is the muggleborn girl standing next to him and the fact that _he doesn't want to hate her._)

"Anyway. I'll leave you to your date," she says.

Her hair is still hanging down her face, and he finds himself caught in an internal battle.

(_You both belong to other people.)_

"Tell Sirius I'll get his jacket back to him," he says. His eyes are glued to that lock of hair.

"I will."

"Lily - " He reaches out and tucks it behind her ear.

She flinches a little at his touch, and everything comes crashing down.

"Oh - thanks." She gives him a tight smile and goes back to her table.

When he gets back to his own booth, his fiancée has slipped out of her white coat. "What kept you?" she asks.

"Saw an old friend."

"Oh." She sighs. "Where's the food?"

"On its way."

"What did you get?"

"Chips."

She wrinkles her nose. "Oh."

Without meaning to, he slams his palm against the table. "You didn't tell me what you wanted," he snaps.

"You _know _I don't like - "

"No, but _I _like them." He's standing. People are looking. He doesn't look around to see whether Lily is one of them.

"Regulus - "

"Call it off," he says.

"Call it off. . . ?"

"The engagement. Call it all off. The wedding. The ring." He's marching toward the door. "I don't want it." He walks out without his - Sirius's - leather jacket.

"_Reg._" She's following him, struggling to run in her heeled white boots. "Reg, what the _hell _are you - "

He whirls around and grabs her by the upper arms. "Study for your NEWTS," he says. "Take your exams. Leave Hogwarts. And find someone to marry who actually wants you."

Her eyes are filling with tears. "I don't understand what - "

"I don't want to belong to you anymore."

(Lily's face appears, framed in the window, looking out at them, and he feels _broken, _because he's doing this for himself but he's also doing it for her, and he already knows she isn't going to return the favor.)

"Fine." She yanks off her glove and twists her finger out of the ring. "Fine." Throws it. "_Fine_." Neither of them bother to watch it land. "Good luck," she fumes, "finding someone else like me."

He lets his eyes snap to the window.

Lily is staring at him.

Lily mouths, _What happened?_

(Lily's hair has come untucked again.)

He turns on his heel and walks back to the castle as quickly as he can without running.

Into the Great Hall - down to the dungeons - knocking on the door -

"Regulus," says Severus in that slow, smooth voice of his. "What a surprise."

There are six of them around the table: a Black. Two Lestranges. A Malfoy. A Crouch. And a Snape.

"You know this meeting is private," Severus says. "For followers only."

"I want in."

Stunned silence. Sev's eyebrows go up. "You want in?"

He rolls up his sleeve and offers a blank forearm. "Mark me."

"He'll need permission," says Crouch, but Bellatrix Black waves him away.

"The Dark Lord has given permission for membership to anyone I deem worthy," she says. "As his most loyal follower, he trusts my judgement, and - "

"Quiet, Bella." Severus stands up and pulls out his wand. "You really want this?"

"I do," and it's like accepting a marriage proposal, it's like making a wedding vow, he's lost a bride but he's gained a family. . . .

"Do you, Regulus Black, swear on pain of death to follow the Dark Lord in all of his endeavors?"

(He won't let himself say _I do _again.) "Yes."

Severus grips Reg's wrist tightly and taps it with his wand. "_Morsmordre._"

The tattoo burns as it comes writhing out of his skin.

(It frames exactly where Lily Evans touched his arm.)

* * *

><p><em>[Defense Against the Dark Arts Class: Write an important moment in the life of a character you dislike. Include an argument. Prompts: pure, battle, a spell (Morsmordre)]<em>

_[Disney Character Competition: Oogie Boogie - write about a Slytherin]_

_[Battleship Competition II: C9 - write about Regulus Black]_


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